


Reverse Astronomy

by shut_the_jongup



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blindness, Disabled Character, Fluff, Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Slice of Life, romance maybe, they're all awkward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-22 04:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12473468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shut_the_jongup/pseuds/shut_the_jongup
Summary: Jongup continues to run his fingers through the tough, drying grass, seeking out the small buds of dying pansies to weave into a project that keeps his hands busy and his mind empty.He leans his head back lethargically, tired hands pinching stems slowly, and carefully ducking soft blossoms under and out the other side of arcs. The wind still pushes at his form, trying to snatch the petals of the flowers away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends :)  
> this started out as kind of prose poetry and just took off... oops.
> 
> did a lot of research for this one... i hope you all enjoy xx
> 
> (i tried to make this as accurate as possible. i have had friends with similar disabilities, and am basing things mostly off of that, so if i made any mistakes please let me know!)
> 
> also i actually was able to edit this one so it's not just a rough draft like most of my other stuff on here lmao rip

It is warm.

 

Drops of sunshine leak through cracking and wrinkled leaves of a tree and scatter, breaking upon his face, spreading the glow across sharp plains and refracting off of sunglasses.

 

It is early autumn.

 

Light winds play with his hair, tossing it up and about while ruffling his clothes: a loose t-shirt and worn-out jeans.

 

It is quiet.

 

Waiting alone in silence, only the stinging buzz of cicadas accompanying him as he runs his fingers through the grass.

 

It is mid-afternoon.

 

The bark of the tree is rough against his back, but more comfortable than the old bench by the pond.

He continues to run his fingers through the tough, drying grass, seeking out the small buds of dying pansies to weave into a project that keeps his hands busy and his mind empty.

Two small flower crowns, already completed, sit beside him on the ground. The one currently undergoing construction is laid in his lap, the end draped carefully over one knee as he works his fingers through knots to tie together.

He leans his head back and lethargically continues his work, tired hands pinching stems slowly and carefully ducking soft blossoms under and out the other side of arcs. The wind still pushes at his form, trying to snatch the petals of the pansies away.

 

This is the routine every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday afternoon.

 

His roommate makes three visits to the campus library every week. When he had asked about it, he had claimed it was because he’s “in constant need of new reading material”, but Junhong does _not_ read for fun _,_ Jongup knows that for a fact. He also knows that his friend just wants to see the “cute little smart-ass” of a student who works shifts at the front desk there on those days.

 

Jongup loves to be outside when the weather is nice, so he often tags along with Junhong and just waits in the courtyard while his friend tries (and assumably fails) to flirt with his dumb crush.

 

Junhong is taking longer than usual today, though, and Jongup is growing bored.

He had considered heading back to the dorm by himself, but there were two problems with that.

 

One: the dorm would be much more boring than this ‘cause he'd have to do his homework.

 

Two: He doesn’t trust himself enough to not get lost on his way back, despite having gone to this school for almost a full three semesters.

 

So when he hears Junhong’s soft voice float through the air, he rejoices with a light sigh, only to completely tense up upon understanding that his friend is speaking to someone else, and that a second pair of footsteps follow his.

"––won’t mind,” Jongup catches Junhong’s words from the wind as he approaches.

“Jongup!!” Junhong grabs his arm, pulling him up to his feet.

He lets the flowers fall from his lap to find home back in the grass.

“I have someone for you to meet. This is Youngjae. He’s a senior, and he does his work study at the library.”

Jongup sticks his hand out in front of him, and it is grasped by a smaller, petite one and shaken once, the touch very brief.

“Nice to meet you, Youngjae. I’m Jongup,” he says softly with a smile.

“You too,” the older returns politely.

“We’re gonna hang out for a bit this afternoon,” Junhong continues. “You can come with us if you want, but I know you don’t really––”

“Actually, I should get started on my psychology paper,” Jongup interrupts, adjusting his sunglasses. “So I think I’ll just chill in the dorm.”

“You could just say you don’t wanna hang out with me,” Junhong teases, grabbing Jongup’s arm again and starting off towards their residence hall, pulling him along.

“Hmm, that would be rude of me, though, don't you think?”

Jongup hears Youngjae snicker from the other side of Junhong. “He’s too nice to you, Junhonggie,” he comments.

“Jongup is too nice to _everyone_ ,” Junhong retorts. “But trust me, he’s capable of roasting anyone to a fine, golden-brown crisp when he feels like putting the effort into it.”

Jongup elbows Junhong in the gut.

“Ow! Sheesh, Jongup, I know you don’t mean to actually hurt me but be _careful_ ,” Junhong complains, letting go of Jongup’s arm to soothe the targeted area. “He also doesn’t know his own strength,” he adds to Youngjae as a warning.

Jongup shakes his head.

 

The trio splits up at the entrance to the res hall, Jongup going inside while the other two make their way to wherever their dumb date is supposed to be.

Their room is on the first floor, so all Jongup has to do is take a left and walk straight for about 10 seconds. He knows his memory is, at this point, good enough for it not to be necessary, but he still runs his fingers over the little bumps on the small signs beside every door, too worried about a repeat of a past incident from the first week of school to just stick his key in a lock he assumes is his.

He had, at first, shaken his head when Junhong came back from their fall break with some weird, sketchy aromatherapy diffuser he had bought online for, like, 40 dollars, insisting that it would help with stress, headaches, insomnia and all that other bad college-y stuff. But Jongup has, admittedly, begun to enjoy the soothing scents Junhong puts in. It’s a little too strong for his liking, but upon stepping into the room more recently, he can feel his muscles start to relax, bit by bit as the air flows through his system and soaks into his skin.

Slipping off his jacket and throwing it into the unknown (Junhong’s side of the room), Jongup lets himself fall onto his bed, curling around a soft, thin blanket. He removes his sunglasses and tosses them onto the dresser, then presses his face into one of his 3 pillows, taking a deep breath. It has really been an exhausting day. Every day is, though, he supposes.

The psych paper can wait until after his nap.

 

Too soon (a couple of hours later), Jongup wakes up to his shoulder being shaken by a firm, gentle hand. He stirs a bit and curls further into his blanket, a weak attempt to boycott facing the world.

“Hey, Jonguppie~”

It’s Junhong, of course. Jongup whines and pulls a pillow over his face, vanishing into the bed.

“Oh, come on, don’t make me drag you out and carry you to the table again,” Jongup feels Junhong tugging at a corner of the blanket. “You need to eat dinner. It’s, like, 6. Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping this entire time…”

Jongup mumbles something about not being hungry into his pillow and shifts to face the wall.

“I can’t believe you,” Junhong pulls the blanket from Jongup’s body with a loud _whoosh_ and what Jongup pictures is a graceful, ballet-worthy twirl and folds it, placing the fabric at the end of the bed, only for Jongup’s bare feet to delve beneath the folds immediately following the action.

“Jongup,” Junhong whines, hitting softly at his friend’s exposed back. “Get up, I thought you promised to come to my art show. You know I need you there.”

_Right._

Remembering his promise, Jongup slowly rolls over and sits up, reaching for his sunglasses and slipping them over the bridge of his nose.

He hears Junhong clap his hands together. “Good! I’m gonna make ramen before we need to go, too. Do you want some?”

“Not really,” Jongup runs a hand through his hair, standing and making his way to his desk, stumbling a bit as the blood rushes to his feet.

“Alright, I’ll make two packs, then,” Junhong says cheekily, his voice getting gradually softer as he approaches the microwave.

Jongup shakes his head as he powers up the desktop, waiting for JAWS (a screen reader), to boot so he can outline his paper for psych quickly before they have to leave. He plugs his headphones into the jack at the back of the computer, not wanting to disturb his roommate, and begins working. A few minutes and a page later, Jongup feels Junhong nudge his shoulder, and he removes his headphones.

“Come on, let’s eat at the table.”

“I can just eat here, I need to work,” Jongup argues.

“We only have, like,” Junhong pauses briefly; he must checking the watch he always wears. “10 minutes,” he finishes. “Plus it’s really hot,  and I don’t want you to spill something and short circuit your keyboard or whatever…”

Jongup sighs, standing up. “When have I ever spilled anything?”

“Well, there was that one time––”

“You left your backpack on the floor,” Jongup defends. “In the _middle of the room_ ,” he emphasizes.

“Good point, I’ll take that hit.” Junhong hands Jongup a pair of chopsticks as he sits at the table anyway, across from him.

Jongup hates it when people worry about him. Everyone always coddles him, trying to take care of him and do everything for him. It’s been nearly four years now. Jongup knows how to take care of himself this way. He had adapted very quickly right off the bat, surprising all of his doctors and therapists, and took pride in his motivation to continue on the track he had been on before the accident. He is going to college, he is going to dance, he is going to make music; and he knows he can. He _is._ But for whatever reason, and, he supposes, understandably, everyone around him seems to lack the trust he knows he deserves. There hasn’t been a single incident since the first few months, but everyone always wants to help him and make things easier or simpler for him. Jongup has debated just coming out and saying straight up that he hates it, that he is absolutely _suffocating_ under all of the supervision and all of the “assistance”; sometimes he wants to tape a sign to himself that says “I DON’T NEED HELP” or something. But of course he won’t. He’s has always been a master of hiding his struggles, at acting through the pain.

 

“You ready to go?”

Jongup hears Junhong place his presumably empty bowl into the sink, not bothering to wash or at least even rinse it, as per usual.

“Sure, just let me get my shoes and jacket.” He stands quickly, grabbing his bowl and making his way towards where he knows the sink is. Junhong stops him with a hand to the chest, taking the bowl from his hands and carrying it to the sink himself. Jongup holds back a dissatisfied grimace and turns to retrieve his jacket from wherever it landed earlier. He’ll find it.

 

“Tell me about the pieces you’re showing this time,” Jongup says as they begin the walk to the campus gallery. He can feel Junhong start to bounce excitedly next to him, and he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I only have two on display, actually, but I’m really happy with how they turned out,” Junhong starts. “One is really small, it’s just a 3 by 4 canvas, but I tried to focus on tiny details, too.” Jongup nods, and he goes on. “It’s an oil painting. There’s a girl in the bottom left corner, but you can only see about half of her, and she’s holding something that makes a kinda-silvery glow thingy. I had a lot of trouble with the glitter,” he mumbles. “She’s standing on an empty street, but it’s all shiny and foggy ‘cause it’s been raining, and from where she stands, it fades into black as you get further away from the light.”

Jongup smiles. “That sounds awesome,” he says. “What color is her hair?”

“I don’t know,” Junhong says simply. “I forgot, it’s all in grayscale,” he finishes sheepishly.

“That would’ve helped with the imagery.”

Jongup leans back against the cold, stone wall outside the gallery, waiting for Junhong to finish talking with one of his professors. The show had a good turnout, and Junhong seems happy with it. The poor kid always gets super shy when it comes to his artwork, but apparently, having Jongup around somehow seems to quell his nerves a bit.

It’s a little colder tonight than it has been recently. Jongup can tell there won’t be much time until winter takes over, spraying crunchy frost across the grass and snipping curled leaves from their chilly, frozen branches. Jongup has always hated that season. He doesn't appreciate the quiet stillness it always brings.

He’s suddenly yanked out of his thoughts when a small yelp fills his ears, and a pair of hands grab his arm, tugging down with an unexpected force. Jongup had heard footsteps a few seconds prior to this, but he had figured the person was just going to quietly walk past him like everyone always does, so he’s not prepared to resist the motion, and is swiftly brought to the ground, landing hard on his right elbow and his left side resting on top of what he assumes is his attacker. He grimaces and scrambles into a sitting position, away from the other person and rubbing at his likely bruised elbow. It’s now that he realizes his sunglasses must have slipped off when he fell, and he quickly brings a hand up to cover his eyes, fumbling around to find the lost article.

“Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry––”

Jongup’s motions pause. He’s heard that voice before.

“––I’m just so clumsy, and I was in a rush and I didn’t see the bench… are you alright? Did you hurt anything?” The boy starts to pat Jongup’s arms frantically as if he is going through airport security, then pauses for a second. “Why are you covering your eyes? I can’t be _that_ ugly,” he jokes.

Jongup swallows but doesn’t say anything, his hand finally coming into contact with his glasses. The other guy must catch a glimpse of the scars on his face when he removes his hand from his eyes to quickly slip the glasses on, because he hears a quiet gasp that is quickly masked by a not-so-convincing cough, and Jongup feels his cheeks flush red.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence as Jongup stands up, patting his elbow to inspect the damage. It doesn’t seem too bad, but he sure as hell still _hates_ interacting with strangers.

“I––”

“Jonguppie!” Suddenly Junhong’s gleeful voice fills the chilly air, cutting the other boy off, and Jongup gives a small prayer of thanks. “I can’t believe it! My professor just–– oh, hi, Daehyun… what are you doing here?” Junhong grabs Jongup’s arm and pulls him to his side.

The guy who crashed into him, apparently Daehyun, lets out a surprised sound. “Junhong, hey!” Jongup can hear the grin in his voice. “Well, actually I was heading over the the music building, but I kind of almost killed your friend here before I could get too far.”

“Huh?” Junhong sounds confused.

“We took a bit of a fall,” Jongup supplies quietly, speaking for the first time since his run in with Daehyun.

“Ah, he speaks!”

Jongup can hear Junhong smack Daehyun (hopefully just on the arm or something). “He probably doesn’t _want_ to talk to you, seeing as you apparently almost killed him,” Junhong says. “Not like he’d need to anyway; you talk enough for, like, six people,” he teases.

“Whatever,” Daehyun replies. “I gotta run, Youngjae’s probably planning my demise for being late. Nice to meet you, Jongup!”

Junhong snorts. “I’ll pray for you. Come on, Jongup, I’m freezing.” He begins to pull the latter down the sidewalk, leaving Daehyun behind as he runs the opposite direction.

Jongup pulls his arm from his roommate’s hold. “I know how to get to the dorm from here, Junhong,” he snaps, uncharacteristically.

There’s a small pause, and he bites his lip, immediately regretting his actions. “I mean, it’s just…”

“I know,” Junhong said softly. Jongup can hear the small smile in his voice. “I just like holding onto you, you’re so small and warm,” he laughs.

Jongup shakes his head as Junhong huddles closer to him, leeching his apparent warmth. It’s true that Jongup has always run on the warmer side, so he lets it slide, knowing full well Junhong does get cold easily.

“I am not _small_ ,” Jongup feigns annoyance, “I’m the national average height, for your information.”

Junhong laughs again, and Jongup sighs. “I let you take advantage of me, don’t I?”

“You make it pretty easy, yes.”

Jongup hits Junhong’s arm.

“ _Owowow_ ,” Junhong flinches away. “Sheesh, how many times have I told you to watch it?”

“Ah, sorry. I forgot you have delicate skin.”

“Excuse you, my skin is _extremely_ manly, thank you very much. You just don’t know your own strength!”

“Who said delicate skin wasn’t manly?” Jongup argues. He feels Junhong shrug, and a small, indecisive noise escapes his mouth.

“So what is it you were so excited about before?” Jongup changes the subject smoothly.

“Oh, right!” Junhong starts bouncing again, and Jongup can’t help but smile at the action.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daehyun and Jongup run into each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, mostly dialogue, but still progress! i haven't edited this yet, but i'll go over it later. meh. i have reading for class to do .-.

 

It’s too chilly to sit outside, now.

The colder months have always been harder for Jongup; he hates the frigid air more than anything.

He’s sitting on a bench next to the building he and Junhong live in, fumbling to slide his phone into his pocket after texting his roommate.

He had forgotten his keys.

Only mid-November and it was snowing already, cold clumps of the stuff tangled his hair, dampening it, and he pulled the hood of his sweater up with numb, cracking fingers, sniffling.

His nose dripped annoyingly, totally clogged by the dry air, and his ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton. He bit his lip and tapped his foot on the ground impatiently, growing nervous as the weather tried to take away his senses of touch, smell, and sound.

He’s been sitting here for at least thirty minutes, he thinks, when he finally makes out the telltale crunch of shoes on sidewalk salt and snow approaching him.

“Jongup?”

That isn’t Junhong.

Jongup frowned. “Daehyun?” He didn’t mean to sound distasteful, but the words came out sounding so, as it was difficult to even out his frozen vocal chords.

He heard Daehyun laugh and come closer, then weight dropped onto the bench beside him.

“Don’t look so excited to see me,” he teased.

Jongup could hear Daehyun’s hand connect with his face, presumably when he realized that what he said couldn’t really apply to him. 

“I mean–– um, to… um––”

“Hey,” Jongup interrupts quietly, with a bit more of a handle on his voice. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. “Don’t worry about it.”

There’s an awkward pause before Daehyun clears his throat and speaks again: “you’re Junhong’s roommate, right? I didn’t really get to properly apologize for what happened a few weeks ago, and I really am sorry, I was just in such a rush…”

He trails off and Jongup doesn’t respond, too busy listening to the near-silent wind.

“It’s okay,” he says a few beats too late, but he can still feel the relief in Daehyun when he lays a hand on his shoulder with a kind of sigh of a laugh.

“Wait, but–– how did you know it was me? I mean–– it’s just that we haven’t really talked that much, or, like, at all––”

“You have a very distinctive voice,” Jongup cuts him off again.

“It that a good thing or should I feel insulted?”

Jongup shrugs. “That’s up in the air.” He can feel his mouth crack a small smile when Daehyun huffs and lets his hand slide off Jongup’s shoulder.

Jongup imagines he folds his arms over his chest, like a little kid.

“What are you doing just sitting out here, anyway?” Daehyun asks. “Don’t you live here? Lock yourself out?”

Jongup sighs, shifting where he sits. He can’t feel his butt anymore.

“I forgot my keys. I texted Junhong, but––”

“How long have you been sitting out here?” Daehyun speaks almost accusatively, and Jongup feels almost like he’s being scolded by his mother.

“Um,” he thinks for a second, tilting his head up and immediately regretting the movement when a large, wet clump of snowflakes hits his cheek. He grimaces and wipes it off with the back of his hand, sniffling again. “Maybe a half hour?”

“What–– Jongup, it’s, like, twenty degrees out here!”

“It’s not  _ that  _ cold,” Jongup defends.

“You’re gonna freeze! Come on.”

He’s not prepared for Daehyun to grab his hand and pull him up and away from the bench, but he decides there’s really no point in arguing. He might not know Daehyun well, but he doesn’t  _ not _ like him. His knees crack loudly when he stands.

“Wait, where are we going?” Jongup is immediately jealous when he feels that Daehyun is wearing gloves, and he finds himself moving closer to the source of warmth without meaning to. He tries to ignore the thrill of being so physically close to someone (excluding Junhong) for the first time in a long time that makes his breath catch.

“The library. Just until Junhong finishes… whatever it is he’s doing with Youngjae.”

“What?”

“He’s in my room, actually, which is why  _ I’m _ not,” Daehyun laughs.

“Oh, you’re Youngjae’s roommate.”

Daehyun hums a confirmation. “Decided to take a walk while they hang out.’”

Jongup laughs lightly at that. “You mean you got sexiled.”

Daehyun snorts. “Please, they’ve only been together a couple weeks. Youngjae won’t let him do anything until he’s sure they’re in love or whatever. I don’t know, he’s romantic and thinks his body is precious.”

Jongup laughs a little at that,  and they fall quiet again. He realizes that Daehyun is still holding his hand when he lifts it up, slowing down.

“Do you, uh…” Daehyun trails off awkwardly and moves their hands back and forth a little.

“No,” Jongup says, knowing full well what it is he means, and he pulls his fingers from Daehyun’s grip, tucking them into his pocket instead.

 

Daehyun clears his throat awkwardly, putting a cup of tea on the table in front of where Jongup is sitting, placing his own down as he sits across from him.

“Thank you.”

Jongup’s voice is so quiet, Daehyun thinks, and he can’t help but find himself intrigued, watching as he leans forward in the lounge chair and lifts the cup, just holding it in his hands for a moment.

Daehyun can tell he’s still freezing cold, if the way he’s seemed to unconsciously curl in on himself has anything to say about it. He notices that Jongup is also only wearing a light jacket, which he frowns upon. He takes a sip from his cup before returning it to the table and sits back, turning to face Jongup. He watches him while he brings the cup to his lips, rotating it until the little slit in the lid is facing him, darting his tongue out to feel for it.

He thinks it’s cute.

Jongup visibly begins to relax, the combined warmth from the heated building and the hot drink creeping through his body. Daehyun watches his shoulders grow less tense, and he sinks into the seat before turning to face Daehyun, crossing one leg over the opposite knee and resting his drink on it.

“Stop staring at me.”

Daehyun jumps and splutters. “What–– no, I wasn’t staring!” The denial is out of his mouth before he gives it permission to leave.

Jongup’s lips quirk at the corners. “Somebody who hadn’t been wouldn’t need to say that,” he says.

Daehyu has half a mind to ask Jongup how he knew that he was staring, but he also knows that it would mean pleading guilty.

“So, what’s your major?” He decides to change the subject immediately, and Jongup sighs.

“Man, ever since my junior year in high school, that question has been the only ice-breaker I’ve heard.”

Daehyun grimaces. “Sorry, I just––”

“Stop apologizing,” Jongup laughs. “I’m a triple major, actually.”

“In…” Daehyun closes his mouth, which had dropped at the statement, and gulps.. “In what?”

“Vocal performance, music production, and dance.”

“You dance?” Daehyun’s eyebrows jump in surprise. How could…

“Yes.” Jongup nods, frowning again and scrunching his nose up a bit. “Though it has been… more difficult… the past couple years.”

Daehyun doesn’t like the way Jongup’s face turned down into a sour expression.

“I major in vocal performance too,” he says brightly. “I also have a minor in theatre, but…”

“But what?”

Daehyun shrugs. “I don’t know. A lot of people criticize me for wanting to go into theatre.”

“How so?” Jongup looks confused, and Daehyun has to tell himself repeatedly that, no, Jongup is  _ not  _ cute, and,  _ calm down, Daehyun, you’ve barely even met the guy. _

“W-well,” he clears his throat. “They tell me there’s no future in it.”

“Oh.” Jongup looks dissatisfied. “Yeah, I’ve been told that too.”

“For all of your majors? That’s a lot of no-future,” he jokes, but Jongup’s face doesn’t lift.

“Just dance.”

And then Daehyun connects the dots. He should change the subject again. For some reason, seeing Jongup sad makes  _ him  _ feel sad, and he wants nothing more than to evoke a laugh.

“You don’t seem like the artsy type,” he says, hoping to get another smile. He decides he likes those.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jongup feigns being offended with a hand pressed over his heart, and then he snorts. “Not like you do, either,” he adds.

“Hey!”

“Shh,” Jongup shushes him. “We’re in a library, Daehyun.”

“What do you mean I’m not artsy!” Daehyun shout-whispers around another sip of tea.

Jongup shrugs. “I mean, I don’t know what you actually look like, and the image in my head is probably all sorts of wrong, but, either way, you’re very outgoing. Doesn’t fit the stereotype.”

“Hm,” Daehyun considers this. “Wait, you have an image of me?”

Jongup looks surprised at the question. “Well, yeah. It’s sort of a reflex. I try to put some physicality to voices. Makes me feel less like I’m talking to myself all the time.”

“Oh.” Daehyun sets his cup back down on the table, half empty now. “Um, if you… don’t mind me asking… and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want me to, and please feel free to ignore me forever–– actually, nevermind, pretend I didn’t say any of what I just said,” he rushes, cringing hard at himself and his lack of charisma. He’s usually such a smooth talker. Why does that go away when he’s with this kid?

Jongup smiles, but it looks a bit sad. Accepting, but sad, and Daehyun mentally smacks himself for making him sad again. “I don’t mind. Were you going to ask me if I’ve always been blind?”

“Um, no…” Daehyun lies.

Jongup raises an eyebrow.

“I… I was just gonna ask if you, uh,” he scrambles for words, and he can tell that Jongup knows he’s full of shit.

“I wasn’t,” Jongup says, cutting off Daehyun’s mindless, embarrassing stutters. “It’s weird, y’know?” He reaches over to put his cup down, not noticing Daehyun moving his own out of the way, and reclines back in the chair with his arms folded behind his head, looking thoughtful.

“Just, one day everything’s full of color, and then the next…”

Daehyun remembers the scars he had seen on Jongup’s face. It had been so dark out when he did, and he was in such a rush that he had forgotten.

“How old were you?” He asks quietly.

“Seventeen.”

“I’m––”

“If you tell me you’re sorry again, I’m going to shun you,” Jongup threatens, sitting up suddenly with a playful smile on his face, making to stand up.

“Wait!” Daehyun squeaks, grabbing Jongup’s wrist.

“Hm?” Jongup turns around, but doesn’t sit, still smiling.

“I’m––”

Jongup’s smile widens.

“Junhong hasn’t texted you back yet.” It’s a dumb, lame save, but at least he caught himself. He tugs Jongup back into his chair. “You’ll freeze again. And I… I like talking to you,” he finds himself saying. “You’re nice.”

“I’m nice?” Jongup’s tone is joking, but he’s got that soft smile on his face again.

Wow, Daehyun loves that smile. He wishes he could see Jongup’s entire face, but he knows that he wears the sunglasses for a reason, and of course he wants nothing less than to make him uncomfortable.

“Yeah!” Daehyun responds too loudly, and his voice cracks, which makes Jongup laugh again. Worth it.

“Wow, a compliment of the highest degree.”

“Of course.”

They sit in silence for another few minutes, until Daehyun’s phone beeps from within his pocket, and he fishes it out, unlocking the screen to see a text message from Youngjae.

“Good news,” he says, leaning towards Jongup. He jumps, obviously not expecting the voice to ring so close to him.

“Youngjae just texted me. Says Junhong took off after seeing your message,” Daehyun says.

Just then Jongup’s phone buzzes, and they laugh as he pulls it out and taps a button to answer the incoming call.

“Hi, Junhong.”

Jongup immediately pulls the phone away from his face, wincing, and Daehyun can hear the loud apologies spilling from the other end of the line from where he sits.

“Hey, shush. Calm down, it’s okay. Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”

Jongup slips his phone back into his pocket and stands up, Daehyun rising as well.

“It was nice talking to you, Daehyun.”

“Thanks,” Daehyun replies, flushing when he realizes that his response doesn’t make sense.

“I mean, you too.” He coughs. “Do you want me to…” he trails off, gesturing uselessly.

“It is still snowing?” Jongup seems to understand what he was going to ask, yet again. He must get questions like these a lot, Daehyun thinks. He looks outside, and his eyes widen comically. Billows of snow are blowing around, and there are small dunes collected at the corners of the buildings. How long have they been in the library for?

“Oh damn, yes. Yes, it’s still snowing,” he answers.

Jongup raises an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

“The snow has increased in terms of both volume and velocity,” Daehyun says with a laugh. “I can’t really see the sidewalk, actually.”

“Big words,” Jongup comments with a grin, shoving his hands into his pockets. He sticks his elbow out in Daehyun’s direction.

“Lead the way.”

Okay, Daehyun thinks, staring at that dazzling smile. He just might have a small crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if you guys want to see more of this story! your responses will probably dictate whether i update again or not, haha. what can i say ya boi is in need of feedback lmao


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daehyun, Jongup, Youngjae, and Junhong spend more time together. Daehyun continues to apologize too much.

“Jonguppie, _please_ , let me just do your socks!”

            Jongup winkles his nose and plucks two socks from the pile, folding them together and setting them on the small, finished pile at his side as Junhong complains.

            “Those weren’t even the same _brand!”_

“That sounds like a you problem, Junhonggie.”

            “And that’s why I’m trying to fix it!” Junhong replies. “It’s a problem! You can’t wear two different brands of socks at the same time!”

            “Yeah, that one’s definitely up there with the cardinal sins,” Jongup says with a shrug, reaching into his laundry basket for another sock. “I guess my days of ignorant bliss are over.” He tilts his head, pausing for a moment. “Do you think that if wearing mismatched socks really was a cardinal sin, it would still count for me, since technically I can’t help it?”

            Junhong furrows his brow in concentration. “Maybe… but now that I’ve made you aware of your actions, shouldn’t you be capable of fixing it and redeeming yourself? Or at least make an effort that will draw mercy from whoever judges what is to be considered a cardinal sin?” He flops back onto his bed, arms spread eagle, only to jolt back up when there’s a knock at the door. Immediately, he looks at Jongup.

            “Are you expecting someone?” he asks.

            Jongup doesn’t pause in his sock-folding. “Um, no.” After a pause, “are you?”

            “No?” Junhong answers like he’s asking a question, and Jongup shrugs.

            “It’s probably for you, then,” he says. “And by that, I mean: I’m not getting up to answer the door.”

            Jongup tunes out while Junhong pushes himself up off of his bed with a groan and makes for the door. He hears voices but doesn’t listen, just keeps folding his socks. He doesn’t understand why Junhong thinks sock-sorting is so important. They’re just socks. All Jongup expects of them is for his feet to be kept warm.

            By the time the door shuts with a click and Jongup hears the creak of the springs in Junhong’s bed, he’s finished with the socks.

            “Who was it?” he asks.

            “Oh––” Junhong yawns “––just the RA. Reminding us about that hall meeting that’s this weekend.”

            Jongup hums in acknowledgement and scoops all of the socks up in his arms, cradling them as he transfers them into the already-open drawer of his dresser. Finishing a load of laundry is like sitting down after running a marathon, he thinks.

            Making his way to his desk, Jongup hears the loud sound of a zipper and some shuffling of papers. “Starting homework?” he asks Junhong.

            “Ugh, more like continuing,” Junhong starts. “I’ve been working on this damn project for three days now, and I’m only half done!”

            “Alright, alright,” Jongup says with a light laugh. “That sucks, Junhonggie. When’s it due?”

            There’s a pause. “About… five hours.”

            “Well, good luck. I’ll be finishing an essay if you need me.” Jongup slips on his headphones and wakes up the computer.

 

 

            Two hours later, psychology essay finally submitted, it’s time for Jongup to begin his composition assignment. He fishes across his desk for the cord that connects his keyboard to the computer, and plugs it in right next to where his headphones––which are still over his ears––are. Just as he pulls up the recording program, Junhong calls his name from across the room. His cry of “Jonguppie!” is muffled but audible, and he slips his headphones off to fall around his neck.

            “What’s up?” Jongup leans back in his chair, inhaling deeply when a relaxing scent filled his nose. “Are you diffusing tea tree oil?” he asks.

            “Have I ever told you how amazing your nose is?” Junhong asks. “Like, that’s a super-power-level sniffer.”

            “Is that a yes?”

            “I don’t know, is it?”

            “What do you want?” Jongup asks, laughing because just _Junhong._

            “Is it alright if Youngjae comes over to hang out?”

            Jongup shrugs his shoulders. “Sure. Just don’t be too loud.”

            “Of course not,” Junhong says.

            “Cool, I’ve just got this composition project I need to get started on, so, you know. Quiet is ideal.”

            “To be honest, he probably just wants to take a nap in my lap while I finish this cursed project.”

            “I guess it’ll work out, then.”

 

 

 

            Daehyun only feels a little bad that he insisted to tag along with Youngjae. And only because Youngjae keeps hitting his arm. They’re all squished together on Junhong’s bed, just playing dumb games on their phones. Well, Youngjae and Junhong are. Daehyun keeps finding himself staring off at the opposite side of the room, at the desk where Jongup is sitting, doing work on his computer. And that’s why Youngjae keeps hitting him, hissing that it’s rude. Though, also because the only reason he really came was to get _away_ from Daehyun so that he could hang out with Junhong in peace, but that’s proving to be quite near impossible. At least, it is until Youngjae kicks Daehyun off the bed.

            He lands with a loud thud and an unnecessarily loud yelp.

            “What was that for!” Daehyun sits up and rubs his back.

            “I want to take a nap, and you were taking up too much space,” Youngjae explains.

            “Well you could have just _said_ that.”

            “Sorry, didn’t think of that.” Youngjae brushes him off as he crawls towards where Junhong is sitting with his back against the wall, legs crossed in front of him. Junhong’s cheeks turn pink as Youngjae climbs into his lap and curls up to fit snugly between his legs, with his head resting on his knee––which is impressive for a fully grown man, but, then again, Junhong is _huge_.

            Daehyun stares from where he’s sitting on the floor as, almost immediately, Youngjae nuzzles into Junhong’s thigh with a soft sigh, already almost asleep. Daehyun laughs at Junhong’s face, which looks near a state of panic, and he gets a glare in return.

            “Go hang out with your own boyfriend,” Junhong hisses, jerking his head in Jongup’s direction.

            Daehyun’s mouth drops open. “What––shush!”

            Junhong raises his eyebrows.

            “Stop that! I’m not dating anyone.”

            “Not yet, maybe.”

            Daehyun pushes himself back to his feet. “I’m leaving. You two can be mushy all you want. Good––” He doesn’t finish, cut off by a yelp the second he turns around, because suddenly he’s falling, and there’s someone under him.

            “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” He scrambles off Jongup in an awkward repeat of their first encounter. He holds a hand out and mentally slaps himself a few times, before reaching forward and grabbing Jongup by the arm. Jongup lets Daehyun haul him off the ground, rubbing his butt on the way up. He mutters a quiet “ow,” and that’s enough, at this point, to make Daehyun’s heart flood with guilt. Forgetting about the other two in the room, he pushes Jongup onto his bed and gently grabs his shoulders, pushing him down until he’s lying on his back.

            “Are you okay? I’m sorry! God, this is even worse than last time––”

            “What are you doing?” Jongup is frowning, and he has his hands wrapped around Daehyun’s wrists to push him away. “I’m fine. I mean, my butt hurts a little bit, but you didn’t break me.”

            Daehyun’s hands flutter around him, as if looking for a way to soothe Jongup, who doesn’t seem to need or want to be soothed, anyway. He glances over at Junhong, who’s watching them with his chin resting in the palm of his hand and one eyebrow raised. Youngjae seems to be asleep. Daehyun feels his cheeks grow hot.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m just, well, you know. I mean, this has happened before, so. Still, I’m really sorry.” He sits down beside Jongup, and opens his mouth to say more, but Jongup sits up, reaching forward to press a hand against his face––hitting his mark dead on on the first try––, covering his mouth. And nose, but he doesn’t seem to mind that he’s cutting off Daehyun’s air supply.

            “Sh,” he commands.

            Jongup moves his hand away after a moment, seeming satisfied with Daehyun’s silence.

            “Sor––”

            “Oh, my god, stop apologizing. I’m fine!” Jongup throws his hands up in the air. “I fell on the ground, it’s okay! You did, too.” He points a finger in Daehyun’s direction. “I’m not breakable just because I can’t see!”

            There’s a brief silence, and Daehyun glances over at Junhong again, who just shrugs and points at him, as if saying “you’re the one who fucked up; you fix it.”

“Yeah, but I fell on top of you,” Daehyun says. “That clearly makes you the victim.” He pokes Jongup’s shoulder, and watches with relief as he cracks a smile.

            “You are pretty heavy. Might’ve actually done some permanent damage. I think you’ll need to pay my medical bills, unless you wanna get sued.”

            “You can’t do that! I’m in college, I don’t have any money!”

            Jongup flinches when Daehyun shouts, but he’s giggling, and it makes Daehyun want to gather him up in his arms and squeeze him. And that’s exactly what he does. He throws his arms around Jongup’s shoulders and pulls him in. Jongup doesn’t exactly reciprocate the embrace, but he doesn’t reject it, either. He just kind of lets Daehyun pull him against his chest with nothing more than a light grunt of surprise. Jongup tilts his head a little in confusion from where it rests over Daehyun’s shoulder, and only then does Daehyun seem to realize what it is he’s actually doing. He pushes Jongup away just as quickly as he had pulled him in.

            “I’m––”

            “Jung Daehyun, if you tell me that you’re sorry, I will kick you out of this room.”

            Daehyun chuckles nervously and rubs a hand against the back of his neck. “I am sorry, though,” he says quietly. When Jongup doesn’t stop him, he continues. “And not just for falling on you. I just… I shouldn’t have reacted that way, before. I’m… I’m not sure why I did.”

            Jongup is quiet for a moment, before turning his head and leaning against Daehyun’s shoulder. He sighs. “It’s alright. Just, please don’t treat me like I’m breakable. A lot of people do that because of these,” he mumbles, tapping his sunglasses.

            “You are anything but weak, mister I-workout-all-the-time,” Daehyun teases him, and squeezes Jongup’s bicep.

            “Hey!” Jongup leans back and kicks him away, laughing and landing a solid blow to Daehyun’s stomach.

            “Ah, okay, okay. But you just gave more evidence for my last statement.”

            “I don’t work out that much.”

            “Then how do you explain all of this?” Daehyun gestures to Jongup’s entire body, before, again, recalling that his gestures are completely useless, but Jongup seems to understand what he means.

            “It’s just from dance.” He shrugs.

            “What do you mean it’s ‘just from dance!’” Daehyun imitates Jongup, earning himself a solid hit to the shoulder. “It’s not that easy for all of us!”

            “I never said it was easy. You’re just lazy.”

            “He’s right,” Youngjae’s voice suddenly pipes up, mid-yawn.

            “Why are you awake?” Daehyun snaps. “Go back to sleep, you loser.”

            “No,” Youngjae protests. “I actually just remembered I have something I need to do.”

 

Five minutes later, Youngjae has produced his backpack and begins to unzip it. “Come on, Junhong! I don’t really have anyone else to ask.”

            “Just make Daehyun do it." Junhong pushes Youngjae’s hand away.

            “Oh, hell no,” Daehyun says from the other side of the room, where he’s sitting on next to Jongup in his bed, tapping at his laptop, a blanket around his shoulders and over his head. “I can barely have my pulse taken without passing out.”

            “You look like a hermit crab,” Junhong says, and Daehyun frowns.

            “Junhonggie,” Youngjae whines, tugging at his arm. “I just have to take your blood pressure, it’s not like I’m performing a vasectomy on you.”

            “Don’t ever say that word again,” Daehyun cuts in.

            “Why do you even have to do this outside of class?” Junhong asks. “This should be a lab! I am _not_ taking this sweater off.”

            Youngjae sighs, and collapses backwards onto one of his pillows. He nudges Junhong’s stomach with his foot. “We don’t even have to go anywhere, I have my own cuff that I can use.”

            “Cuffs?” Daehyun waggles his eyebrows at Youngjae, and Junhong’s cheeks set ablaze.

            “Shut up, Daehyun.” Youngjae launches a pillow at him, just missing Jongup.

            “Hey!” Junhong protests. “That’s mine!”

            Youngjae shrugs, and Daehyun throws the pillow back.

“How ‘bout you just use Jongup for your assignment?” Junhong asks.

            “Jongup?” Youngjae asks, sitting up. “I mean, I guess I––”

            “Hey Jonguppie! Youngjae needs a subject for one of his nursing assignments. You don’t mind having your blood pressure taken, do you?”

            Jongup tugs out one of his earbuds. “What?”

            Junhong repeats himself and Jongup nods. “Sure, I don’t mind.” He puts down his iPod and stands up. “Is any of your shit on the floor?” he asks.

            “Nope,” Junhong states proudly, and Jongup crosses the narrow space between their beds. He reaches out and grabs the side of Junhong’s bed, then hefts himself up with barely any effort. He lands, seated neatly, beside Youngjae and holds out his arm.

            “Oh, thanks,” Youngjae says. He pulls a couple things from his backpack and Velcros the blood pressure cuff around his bicep, then positions his stethoscope in his ears and starts pumping.

“Hmm…” Youngjae frowns, checking the meter again. “Exactly one hundred over seventy.” He loosens the cuff around Jongup’s arm and pulls his stethoscope from his ears. “That’s a little bit low. Well, still in the normal range, but you feel fine, right?” he asked.

“I’m a little cold,” Jongup suggests.

“No, no––that would have the opposite effect, actually,” Youngjae corrects him. “See, because when you’re cold, your veins contract––they get smaller––, so more pressure is needed to––ah!”

“Stop it,” Daehyun groans from wherever he must have launched something at Youngjae. “I thought you were a vocal performance major,” he whines.

Youngjae slides the cuff from Jongup’s arm and shoves it back into his bag in exchange for a notepad and pen. “Daehyun, we’ve been here for about three years, and you still can’t find the space in your brain to remember that I’m a double major?”

“Nope.”

Youngjae grumbles to himself and writes down Jongup’s vitals. “Well, I still technically need three subjects total, so that’s two left,” he says.

“Can’t you just make shit up?”

“No, Daehyun. Unlike some people, I have a respect for the honor code, and I value every learning experience I can have.”

Jongup laughs and slides off Junhong’s bed. He makes it back to his own and gets comfortable next to Daehyun again, grabbing his earbuds and settling in for a little while of relaxing music. His friends continue to bicker, but he’s not really listening anymore. In fact, he feels like he might fall asleep here. He could for sure if he laid down, but Daehyun is here, too, and Jongup isn’t about to go laying his head in anybody’s lap.

 

 

 

            Ever since he met and befriended Jongup a couple of months ago, Daehyun has begun to notice him all over the place. He’s surprised that they had never really been acquainted until recently, since they share a major. In fact, Daehyun spends most of his free time in the music building, so he doesn’t understand how Jongup has managed to slip past him.

            When he finally does spot Jongup in the music building, he’s not surprised but definitely happy, and he nearly barges right into the practice room, somehow possessing enough self-control to wait until Jongup takes his fingers away from the keys on the piano.

            Junhong is sitting on a stool at the window, resting a textbook on the sill and leaning over it studiously.

            “Well, I couldn’t hear any of that, but I’m sure it was lovely!” Daehyun says, clapping.

            “What are you doing in here?” Daehyun asks Junhong. “Homework?”

            Junhong groans loudly and leans back as far as he can without falling off of the stool, and he flings his hands into the air. “Does the sun rise in the east?” he asks flatly.

            Jongup snorts. “He’s got quite a heavy workload this semester, apparently, but then again, for all I know he could be spending our ‘night-time-quiet-time’s watching YouTube on his laptop.”

            “God, I wish.” Junhong grabs a chunk of pages from his textbook and slowly releases them, creating a solid, fanning, heavy-paper-fwapping noise. “That sound like a laptop to you?” he asks, sounding miserable.

            “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Junhonggie. You’ve really been an amazing roommate.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Junhong grumbles. “I wish I could be an amazing _student_ , too.”

            “You have a good GPA.”

            Junhong makes an unsure noise.

            “You work hard, Junhonggie,” Daehyun chimes in.

            “Thanks, man.” Junhong says with a sigh, and he shuts his textbook. “I think I’m gonna catch a nap before my next class.”

            Daehyun glances at his watch, eyebrows raising. “You have another class? It’s past five.”

            “It’s a night class,” Junhong and Jongup say in tandem, and Daehyun winces.

            “Ugh, that’s the worst.”

            “Yes it is!” Junhong agrees with a pained grin. He turns to Jongup. “Jonguppie, are you gonna stay a while longer?”

            Jongup nods his head. “Yeah, I think so. I wanna work on this one a little more,” he says, running his fingers across the keys.

            “Can I hear it?” Daehyun blurts out.

            “Oh––sure.” Jongup looks surprised, almost as if he forgot Daehyun was there.

            Junhong packs up his stuff and slides on his jacket and hat, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “You can get back okay?” he asks Jongup. “It’s still pretty icy.”

            Jongup sighs. “Yeah, I keep a cane in my bag.”

            “You fit that thing in your backpack? How?”

            “It folds, idiot.”

            “Oh,” Junhong says with a laugh. “I’m gonna go and do some sleeping now. Call me if you need anything. I can’t guarantee I’ll be conscious to pick up, though.”

            Jongup waves off in Junhong’s direction. “I’ll be fine, Junhonggie. Plus, I’ve got Daehyun.”

            Daehyun, who immediately blushes when Jongup says his name, turns to Junhong.

            Junhong gives him a look that is, in Daehyun’s opinion, far too knowing.

            “What?” Daehyun asks.

            “What?” Jongup echoes.

            “I’ll see you tonight!” Junhong calls, and he’s out the door.

 

            “You’re amazing,” Daehyun says ten minutes later, majorly blown away. He watches Jongup’s smile grow. “Seriously, how’d you get so good? I’ve had to take piano classes but I never really picked it up. At least, not beyond Hot Cross Buns and a few scales.”

            Jongup huffs out a light laugh, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m learning to play by ear,” he says, and then blushes. “I don’t have perfect pitch yet, but I’m working on it.”

            “Don’t have––Jongup, please, teach me your ways.” Daehyun sits down next to him on the padded bench.

            Jongup swings one leg over so that he’s straddling the bench and facing Daehyun. “I don’t know if I’d really be any help to someone who plays by reading sheet music,” he says. “I can’t teach you how to do that.”

            Daehyun frowns. “I know, just… you’re just so great,” he says, then claps a hand on Jongup’s shoulder, startling him. “Can you recommend good pieces to start with, though? For someone who sucks?”

            Jongup’s smile creeps back. “Well that depends. How much do you suck?”

            For a moment Daehyun forgets to respond, letting his hand fall from Jongup’s shoulder and linger on his arm. He’s just staring at Jongup’s face, wishing he could see all of it. Under the bright lights of the practice room, he can make out very faint traces of scars that disappear under the sunglasses. He doesn’t know what exactly happened to Jongup––he figures it doesn’t matter much since it’s never actually come up––, but he thinks it might have taken more than just Jongup’s vision from him.

            Jongup’s question finally processes, and Daehyun scrambles to answer. “I––um, I really suck. Like a lot. It took me a semester to get through the level one workbook.”

            Jongup winces, making Daehyun laugh. “Ah, that bad, huh?”

            Daehyun kicks his shin lightly. “I can learn! I just haven’t found a good teacher yet.”

            Jongup elbows him. “What makes you think I’ll be the one?” he asks.

            “Well… the traditional way doesn’t seem to work for me, you know? I guess I think that maybe a different… approach, could help me figure it out?”

            Jongup hums. “Well, I do need to practice myself for a little longer since this is kind of due tomorrow, but for now you could play something and I’ll suggest a piece for you to try in the meantime based on how well you do?”

            Daehyun groans and stands up, making his way over to the bookshelf-made-mini-library in the corner of the room. “How does ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’ sound?”

            “Oh, I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I?”

            “’The Gift to be Simple?’”

            “Daehyun––”

            “’Kumbaya?’ ‘Amazing Grace?’ Oh! There’s ‘A-Tisket A-Tasket!’”

            Jongup shakes his head. “Why do they even have those in here?”

            “Okay, okay,” Daehyun says, running his fingers over the rows of booklets. “I’ll do Für Elise.”

            “That I can work with, probably.”

            Daehyun slips the sheet music from the shelf and organizes it at the piano. He scoffs and slides back onto the bench, bumping into Jongup’s side as he wiggles his way to the center.

            “Pardon me, sir,” he mocks, poking Jongup’s arm.

            Jongup just tilts his head. “Oh, sorry, did you need the whole bench?”

            “Um––”

            “Check the range of the piece.”

            Daehyun squints at the papers in front of him. “You want me to find the highest and lowest note just to see if I’ll have to reach past you to play?”

            “Yes,” Jongup says, as if this is normal.

            Daehyun’s not sure what to say to this; he doesn’t have anything to say to this, he just stares at Jongup again for a few seconds, until:

            “Stop staring at me.”

            Daehyun flinches and averts his gaze back to the sheet music. He’s really got to practice the art of subtlety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this Random, Unwarranted Update! I wrote about half of it, like, at least half a year ago, and then finished it all today. So it's really choppy and full of skips, but eh. I have to go back to college tomorrow and I don't have time for editing. :D


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